The Dark Side of the Moon
by Mrs.HarryPotter12
Summary: Ron's been in Azkaban for 6 years. His retrial is being handled by Ginny and Harry, so that leaves one person absent from his life. Hermione, who's determined to forget about him. Too bad her heart isn't as determined.
1. Prologue

__

Author's note: This story came to me one day while I was watching Law and Order, and one of my friends thought it was brilliant, so cheers to her. This is for you, babe. Anyway, since JKR never really said anything about the Wizarding world's legal system, I'm creating one to fit the story's needs. Most of it will be based on the American justice system just because I don't want to completely butcher the English judiciary system. I just wanted to warn you beforehand…

And, as another note: Lain and I are sharing her account. For personal reasons, I'm closing my old one. Several (note, not all) of my stories can be found and will be updated on different websites, so if you're looking for one that I haven't brought over with me, just ask. The stories I have chosen to not continue were weakly put together, bad ideas or were damaged beyond repair. If I have time, someday I plan a re-write of 'Famous Last Words', which means 'I'll Always Be Here' may be re-written as well. I've got my fingers crossed. Thanks for your time and consideration, it really means a lot to me.

Missie

Dark Side of the Moon

****

Prologue… Ron's PoV

Six years in Azkaban can really change a person, especially when they're innocent. Ron Weasley went into Azkaban completely unprepared for what lay ahead of him. The things he saw surpassed everything he had seen in the Second War.

Today, he was standing in the Warden's office. His prison uniform, which had fit him when he was first incarcerated hung loosely on his tall, thin frame. His face, which before had always held the traces of a charming, boyish grin was now hollow and blank. The only thing that ever seemed to relay emotion was his eyes, and that was only when his gaze was fixated on something or someone. Currently he was gazing out over the kilometres of water surrounding the hell he had called home for the past six years.

The Warden was filling out his papers, for what he didn't know, and the sound of his quill scratching the parchment was driving Ron crazy. After six years in solitary confinement, any noise seemed to echo off the walls with such intensity he wanted to throw himself into the icy blue depths outside. He hadn't used his voice during those lonely years, and wasn't even sure he could anymore. As he watched the water crash against the rocky shores of Azkaban Island, he couldn't help but wish them to shake the prison to it's very core and cause the unwelcoming building to crash into the seemingly endless abyss.

The Warden laid the quill on his desk and sighed. Turning to the guard stationed at his door, he nodded brusquely and stood. "Mr Weasley, your family and legal counsel are here to see you."

Ron turned his head and looked him in the eyes. The Warden, after a few moments of being on the receiving end of an intense blank stare, looked away and moved towards the door. He turned the knob and let two people inside before taking his leave.

A young redheaded woman stepped through and wrinkled her nose. Her companion, a tall dark haired man frowned as he stepped into the office as well.

Ron watched the two stare around curiously before seeming to realize he was there. "Ron?" the woman asked, cautiously stepping towards him. Her voice was so soft he wasn't sure she'd even spoken at all. "Oh Ron."

She threw her arms around him and rubbed her cheek against his worn uniform. "Merlin, you look horrible," she mumbled, pulling back long enough to really look at him. His face was pale, except for the shadow of stubble brushed along his jaw and cheeks. There were purple bags under his pain filled eyes, and a scar blazing along his jawbone and down his neck. Her big brown eyes glistened with unshed tears as they roved his face, looking for any trace of emotion. "What have they done to you?" she whispered, pulling him into another hug.

He awkwardly put his arms around her back. "I'm alright Ginny," he whispered hoarsely. His voice cracked miserably, and he flinched at how dry his throat was. His voice sounded foreign to him, but somehow hauntingly familiar. "I missed you." He could feel her tears leaking onto his shirt and he closed his eyes briefly.

"Hi Ron," the dark haired man said uncomfortably. Ginny moved to Ron's side, without removing her arm from around his back. "It's been awhile," he continued, extending his hand. His other hand was shaking, and his eyes looked a little misty.

Ron reached out with his free hand and clapped him on the back. "I know," he replied, his voice squeaking. "Merlin, my voice hasn't sounded like this since school." They all laughed, and the shadow of a smile played across Ron's face. "What are you guys doing here? Not that I'm not thrilled to see you…"

Ginny's smile disappeared and she shot Harry a quick look. "They didn't tell you?" she asked, moving to set the briefcase clutched in her hand on the Warden's desk. "They were supposed to tell you that you've been granted a retrial. The judge presiding over your case was taken into custody last month for receiving bribes on cases, and yours was one of the those mentioned." She pulled out a stack of papers and motioned for Harry and him to sit down. They did, and she continued. "I'm your main legal counsel, and I'm hoping to get one of my old law professors as your barrister."

"You're an attorney?" he asked, leaning forward in his chair.

She gave him a small smile. "I quit Healer training to go to the law academy. My dream was getting you a retrial," she confessed, flipping through the papers. "I requested every piece of the case from six years ago-" she gestured towards the piles of paper on the desk, "-and I was hoping we could go over them after you're released."

He bolted up in his chair. "I'm getting-" he lowered his voice and looked around nervously. "Released?"

She nodded. "Don't act so surprised, we know you didn't do it."

"Yeah, I mean, I may have been eleven, but I think I'd know better than to pick a murderer as my best mate," Harry told him. "And Ginny's bloody brilliant at this thing. She hasn't lost a case yet."

Ginny blushed to the roots of her hair. "One. I lost one," she mumbled, obviously pleased by his confidence in her. "But most of those weren't murder trials. I'm still trying to get secondary counsel that has more experience with these types of cases."

Harry turned to Ron. "She doesn't give herself enough credit. You should have heard her on the way over here, she was poking holes in the evidence left and right. She's really good with this."

"I am right here," Ginny reminded them, sounding a bit put out. "Please Harry, compliment me to my face."

They all laughed, but just as soon as the atmosphere became lighter, it darkened. "What do you really think my chances are?" Ron asked quietly. "I don't think I could come back here after this."

Ginny began to stack the papers in her briefcase, avoiding eye contact with her older brother. "You stand a chance, the prosecutor originally assigned to this case is retired and the new one is a rookie. You'll have a new judge, and a fresh perspective on everything going on. But," she paused and locked the briefcase, mentally racking up her next words. "there's always the chance you'll have to come back here. But I can assure you I'll do everything in my power to make sure you don't. You trust me, right?" She moved so she was standing in front of him, her hands on his shoulders.

He looked up at her and smiled for the first time in so long. "Of course I do."

"Good. Now, we have a hearing in an hour. Harry brought you some dress robes, so hurry and get changed."

XxX

****

WEASLEY GRANTED RETRIAL!

In what is the most amazing decision passed in Magical Law history, Ronald B. Weasley, in Azkaban for the murder of Thomas Whittingger six years ago, was granted a retrial on the basis of prosecutorial misconduct. The original prosecutor, Nathan Hale, was supposedly bribing the judge, Herman P. Walthers, assigned to the case and Walthers ruled in his favour for multiple cases, not just Weasley's.

Weasley's new attorney and youngest sister, Ginevra M. Weasley, when asked for her opinion concerning the case, stated, "He (Hale) didn't even have enough to go to trial last time and I'm making sure the legal system doesn't fail my brother again. I plan on taking every case handled by Walthers and Hale to another judge and freeing every innocent person they convicted. They didn't just betray innocent people, they betrayed the legal system and the thousands of citizens who rely on it to restore order in our times of darkness. They will pay for this betrayal, and I'll be sure to be the one making this case."

The case six years ago was considered airtight, but with new light being shed, some old supporters of the prosecution's side are beginning to sympathize with the defence. Ronald Weasley was one of the Golden Trio that included the famous Boy-Who-Lived, was one of the top Aurors in his class and was considered a 'down-to-earth, trustworthy guy.' Harry Potter, an old family friend, was reported saying, "There's no way (Weasley) did it. He stood by me all through school and has to be the most loyal person I know. He's just not capable of it.'

While many disagree on the various aspects of the case, one thing holds true. Many of the most brilliant legal advocates of our time have pointed out the weaknesses in the prosecution's case, and after six years, the case can only get weaker.


	2. Pre Game Warm Ups

Helen Michaels thinks she's happy. She really does. She's got a wonderful fiancé, who she just bought a house in Dublin with; she has an orange cat that protects her with his life and a job at a bookstore that pays well. Everything about her life is perfect, right down to her down-to-earth friends. But something is missing.

Variety.

Her life, while perfect, isn't anything like she imagined it would be six years ago. If it hadn't been for that night at the bar, if she hadn't insisted on going out and celebrating, her life would be a mess, full of redheaded children, a badly paying job, a cramped house in Diagon Alley and despite the lack of glitz and glamour that her life now possesses, she'd at least have friends who weren't so fake, a job she actually enjoyed getting up and going to every day, a cat that hated her husband with such a vengeance, her husband would have to fight for her attention, but most of all, she'd the life she wanted. The life she'd always thought, no matter how hectic or monotonous, would always be perfect because it was what she longed for.

It was the life without the horrible secret she kept bottled up.

Chapter One Pre-Game Warm Ups

"In the case of the country of England verses Ronald Weasley on the count of murder in the second degree, how do you plead?" the bailiff barked, handing the clipboard to the judge.

"Not guilty," Ginny replied, her face betraying no emotion.

"Any thoughts on bail, counsellors?" Judge Mitchell Kings asked, rolling his eyes. He knew the defence was going to ask for ROR, release on one's own reckoning, or extremely low bail. Sometimes he wondered why murderers thought they could get away with these things when it was obvious they were guilty. 

Ginny Weasley looked straight at the judge and flashed him a cocky smile. "The defence asks for ROR, your honor, on the basis that my client's first trial was mishandled and since justice wasn't served, there is no evidence the crime was committed by my client. The prosecution's case is-"

"We got him convicted once, we can do it again, Your Honor," Nicholas Gates told the judge, ignoring the agitated sigh Ginny let out. "The gravity of the offence demands the defendant be remanded."

"The original judge and prosecutor have been brought up on misconduct charges, there's no way anyone can be sure the so called 'evidence' wasn't manufactured to suit their needs-"

"There's no basis for these accusations!"

Kings slammed the gavel down and sighed. "Order! Counsellors, this isn't open court, save the arguments for the presiding judge. Ms Weasley, I am well aware of the," he paused, thinking of the best way to put his next words. "Situations the former presiding parties are in. Taking that into consideration, 100 galleons bail, coins or bonds. Next case!"

Nick Gates rolled his eyes. Just because the accused had Harry Potter on his side didn't mean everything should come so easily. He'd looked over the case, it wasn't as strong as he would have liked, but he had been feeling confident until he'd seen the new defense attorney's name.

G. Weasley

That wasn't good. He had been two years above her in law school, but he had heard the stories and read the articles running in the Daily Prophet. She was on the warpath, and wouldn't stop at this case. He realized his best bet was to make a deal. And fast. He stepped out into the hallway and saw the red hair. Thank goodness."Weasley!"

Two pairs of heads snapped around, and Nick quickly closed the gap between them. "Nick Gates," he told them, extending his hand. "Pleasure," he continued. No other hand was extended for him to take, so he dropped his hand awkwardly. "I was wondering if we could try and settle this out of court."

Ginny sighed. Why was it every attorney she'd ever faced wanted to settle things out of court? Was no one in for a good bloodbath these days? Not only was she in the mood for one, she felt if she couldn't blame someone for this, she wouldn't survive the trial. "I'd have to check with the barrister," she replied calmly, casting a glance over at Ron.

Nick noticed, and something hit him. "Aren't you supposed to be in prison until your bail is paid?"

Ginny cut in. "That's being handled as we speak." As she finished her sentence, Harry came rushing out of the bail office, smiling. "It's taken care of."

Nick, realizing all three were staring at him, cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Just call my office and set up an appointment." He rummaged through his briefcase and pulled out a card. "Just tell my secretary it's important."

She nodded brusquely and placed her hand on Ron's arm. "Let's go," she told him quietly, looking over at Harry. "Everything's taken care of, correct?"

He nodded. "It was nice meeting you," he added, and stuck his hand out for Nick. Nick shook it and turned around.

Harry watched him leave. "He sounds like a real son of a bitch."

Ginny smiled and began to lead them to the back entrance of the courthouse. "He was two years above me, I think. From what I heard, he is."

"Who's the barrister?" Ron asked suddenly, looking at his younger sister. "I have another attorney?"

Ginny blushed. "I haven't actually asked her yet," she confessed. Harry held the door open for them and she cautiously poked her head out and looked around. "No reporters, come on, I had a portkey made so we could go to Hogsmede without any trouble." Pulling a sheet a parchment out of her pocket, she tapped it with her wand and muttered a quick spell. "Useful little bugger," she mumbled, holding it out. Harry and Ron took hold and waited.

The tug behind the naval told them they were moving, and the second Ginny felt herself land on something soft, she opened her eyes. Portkeys always made her sick, and she hated traveling with someone else by portkey, because she always ended up on top of said someone. This time it happened to be Harry.

Somehow, Ron landed on his feet and smiled faintly as Ginny scrambled to hers. She glared playfully, giving him a friendly push as she walked past to get the keys from the front desk. She rang the bell at the desk, tapping her fingers on the countertop impatiently.

"G'mornin'!" the bellboy shouted. He was about 18, tall and gangly with bug like brown eyes and a toothy grin. He smiled at her. "What can I do you for?" he asked, placing his hand dangerously close to hers.

Ginny smiled cheekily at him, batting her eyelashes a bit. "I need three rooms-" she tossed her head back at Ron and Harry "-but I need this kept quiet. Can you help me?"

"Sure can, beautiful," he replied, leaning in. "But I've got a loud mouth. I might need some help keeping quiet…" he trailed off, his smile growing wider. "I can guarantee a week of silence for a kiss…"

Ginny fought the urge to laugh in his face. "Make it a month and I'll do it." She winced inwardly at the fake tone of her voice.

His eyebrows shot up. "A whole month? Wow, what'd he do, kill someone?"

Ginny's eyes narrowed and she stood up straight. "I think we'll be taking our business someplace else." She turned around, but stopped mid-step and turned back to face him. "What you were doing to me back there was extortion. You're lucky I'm not in the mood to deal with you, but you can expect your boss to get a not so friendly owl tomorrow." The look on his face made the whole speech worth it. She didn't care if she was being trivial, she loved a good fight.

"So?" Harry asked, watching as she glanced at the clock. "No rooms?"

"Randy busboy," Ginny mumbled, trying to think of a solution. It was three fifty, and she had an appointment with her hopefully future barrister at four o'clock, she still had to get Ron checked in, settled down and briefed on the case. She rubbed her temples gingerly and sighed. "There's another hotel down the street, right? Can you check in? I've got that appointment…"

Ron nodded and wrapped her in a hug. "Thanks sis," he whispered. "I'm glad you're handling this."

Ginny hugged him back and sighed into his shoulder. "Your welcome."

She watched as Harry and Ron walked away, wishing there was something more she could do. Ron was still deathly pale, and she still had to face the prosecution. Suddenly, her stomach churned. The thought of six years wasted killed her. She was going to win this case, even if it killed her.

XxX

"I don't care! Tell the son of a bitch to get the papers on my desk by seven or I'm going to the press! I don't care if it's bad for my blood pressure, I'm living on borrowed time as it is!"

Ginny stood outside the door in the familiar corridor she had walked for three years. She remembered being in this same position the first day she'd come to the law academy. She'd switched from Healer training to law school weeks after Ron's trial, coming into the academy half way through the year. Her first stop had been to Professor Heath's office for her tutorial. The shouting had died down, so she knocked timidly on the door. It creaked open, and she stepped inside.

Georgette Heath, perched precariously at the edge of her desk with the phone cradled between her shoulder and ear, motioned towards one of the empty chairs in front of her and mouthed a few words at Ginny. Ginny crossed the room and sat, watching her former professor take a drag from the cigarette in her hand and exhale the smoke up into the air.

"You prosecutors are the reason I drink! Tell him Georgie called and if he doesn't return my calls I'll come down there and knock him around something good! Same to you. Goodbye." She slammed the phone down on the receiver and sighed before crushing the cigarette in the tray. She broke into hysterical laughter and stood, embracing Ginny in a bone-crushing hug. "Ginevra, it's marvelous to see you again!" she exclaimed, still laughing.

"Thanks for seeing me on such short notice," Ginny replied, hugging the older woman back. She let go and watched as Georgette circled her desk and collapsed into her armchair. Ginny took her seat again, smoothing out her robes as she sat. "It's nice seeing you again as well."

Georgette's smile expanded. "No need to be so formal, I'm not assigning extra homework anymore." She reached into her desk and pulled a bottle of firewhiskey out and pouring two glasses. She handed one to Ginny. "You said it was important?" she prompted, tilting the glass towards Ginny and tossing it back. "What brings my favorite student back to see her old professor?"

Ginny took a small sip before setting the glass back on the desk. She hated the taste, she preferred Muggle liquor after a particularly hard case, it didn't burn like firewhiskey did. "Six years ago, my brother was sent to Azkaban--"

Georgette waved her hand to quiet her. "I know. The case was weak, but the defense attorney didn't even bother to try and defend him. I hear you're taking on the case?"

Ginny nodded. "I've never done a murder trial before, and I'm scared to death I'm going to lose this case. Professor, I can't afford that. Ron didn't do this, he couldn't do this, and if he goes back to Azkaban, I don't think he'll survive."

Georgette sized her up. "You don't think he could survive, or you don't think you could?"

Ginny faltered, her words evaporating. "He's my brother," she said weakly, looking down at her hands, tears brimming her eyes. "He was the one who stood by me all my life, and the day he got locked up, I thought I had died. We're so close, so dangerously close, I can taste it… If I was to mess this up, I'd never forgive myself." Her eyes drifted back up, and she knew a tear had leaked down her cheek. "I can't just sit by and watch him get slandered again. He didn't do it, I know he didn't, I just need help proving it."

Georgette smiled. "That's what I always liked about you, your trust in humankind. That's hard to come by anymore, and it's a quality that a good lawyer can't get to work in their favor most of the time. You always wanted to prove them innocent, but that's not your job. Your job is to create reasonable doubt, not to start a crusade. But your determination for the jury to see what's good in the defendant always works in your favor. That is one thing I never managed to make work. You'll be able to do this, you're too determined to take anything less." She poured herself another glass of firewhiskey. "Now, what's on your mind? I hope you didn't just come here for a confidence boost."

Ginny sighed. "I need someone with experience to help me, I realize that. And I feel that I just can't pull some random person out of the phonebook and ask them to help me. I need someone who can work with me and fight for my cause, understanding why it's so important to me. I need someone who can work with me, not above me or below me. I need a partner, and that's why I came to you. I want you to be Ron's barrister."

The older witch arched her eyebrows in curiosity. "Why? You're just as qualified to handle this case as I am. Why in Merlin's name would you want my help? This is the biggest case of your career, and you're willing to share the spotlight?"

"This isn't about the spotlight," Ginny said exasperatedly. "This is about getting my brother out of Azkaban. I don't care what I have to do to achieve this, I will do it. If you won't help me, I'll go to someone else." Ginny stood, taking her briefcase and walking towards the door.

"Ginevra."

Ginny stopped, still not turning around. "I'm listening."

"Forgive an old woman, she doesn't have all her wits about her. All my life, I was taught it was about the glory. We were in it for the fame and the spotlight, helping others was just a very small bonus. I knew from the day you walked into this office that you weren't like the rest of them, and I shouldn't have assumed you were in this for any other reason other than to help your brother." She leaned back in her chair and watched Ginny's back intensely. "If you'll reconsider, I'd love to talk about the case with you."

Ginny's perfect posture slumped a bit and she turned around, fighting back a grin. "Is that a yes I just heard Professor?"

"Only if you agree to call me Georgette."

Ginny extended her hand. "I'm reconsidering as we speak."

XxX

Harry turned the key and stepped into the hotel room. It was a suite, a kitchenette sat proudly in the corner, complete with mini bar, microwave and a stove. Nest to it was a settee and living room chairs, a TV, and two doors were at either end. The closest led to a bathroom and the other led to the bedroom. "Home sweet home," he mumbled, stepping in closely followed by Ron.

Compared to the cells in Azkaban, this place was heaven. The red carpet was soft looking, and the couch looked so inviting, the minute Ron stepped through the threshold, he plopped onto the couch.

"Enjoying yourself?" Harry asked, sitting next to him. He pulled some shrunken suitcases out of his pocket and set them on the floor. Mumbling a spell, they began to grow.

"Yes, actually. This is quite enjoyable." He kicked off his shoes and rolled his neck, wincing as a crack echoed through the room.

Harry winced too. "That sounded painful."

Ron shrugged. "Not too bad."

"What happened?" Harry asked, motioning to the scar along his jawbone and neck. He felt uncomfortable asking, but the curiosity was gnawing his discomfort away.

"Remember that murderer that got sent away our seventh year, Rusty Burette?"

Harry nodded, and Ron continued. "We had a bit of a spat, ending in a broken bottle and a homemade shank."

"Over what?" Harry asked before he could stop himself. When Ron didn't answer, Harry didn't say anything. If he didn't want to talk about it, he didn't have too. Harry mentally reprimanded himself for being so nosy, he hated it when people asked about Voldemort; that must be how Ron felt about people asking him about Azkaban. "Sorry," he mumbled, feeling an apology was necessary.

"It's okay," Ron replied, letting his head fall back. "I'm sorry for when I asked you what it was like to be the Boy-Who-Lived when I was eleven."

They sat in silence for a few moments, each having questions pop into their minds. "What happened to Hermione?" Ron asked softly, his voice so low Harry barely hear him. Harry knew this question was coming, and by the hurt in Ron's voice, she hadn't written him like she said she would.

Harry thought a bit before he answered. He knew this question was coming, and he wasn't sure how to answer it. He had received the invitation to her wedding last month, but he wasn't going to go. There was something about seeing her with her fiancé that made his stomach churn and his blood boil. He'd met the guy once, and his perfection made Harry want to throw up. "She moved to Ireland five years ago," he said finally, looking down at his hands.

"What is she doing now?" Ron asked, his curiosity flaring up. He knew Harry was holding something back, and he had the feeling it was something he wouldn't want to know.

"She works in a bookstore, I think," Harry replied slowly, trying to think. "Crookshanks is still alive, and he terrorizes her neighborhood. In her last letter, she told me he had mated with a female tabby and there's little brown and orange kittens running around with him. He's still very protective of her."

Ron nodded, smiling as he imagined Crookshanks and six little orange monsters following him around. Baby terrorists, although they're probably learning from the best, he thought. He felt a pang of sorrow when he realized he'd give anything to see what the damned cat was up to right now. Not to mention what he'd give up to see what Hermione was doing…

Harry knew he should have told Ron the whole truth, that Hermione had changed her name and was getting married in two months, but he didn't have the heart. The case was all they needed to concentrate on now. Anything else would be a distraction, and distractions were the last thing anyone needed now.

"I think I'm going to go freshen up," Ron announced, taking the suitcase Ginny had packed for him. "Do you know when Ginny will be back? I want to know what my chances are for an--" he dropped his voice noticeably, looking around like something was going to drop on him if he actually said the words out loud. "Acquittal."

XxX

_To Wytil: The reason I'm basing this court system on the American judicial system (besides the fact I'm an American) is because I really don't know that much about the English judicial system. From what I understand, a barrister is what we call 'second chair.' They're the type of attorney who settles (or attempts to settle) cases out of court. A solicitor is the attorney that does all the work in court. At least that's how I interoperated what I read and what I was told._

_To Eckles: While that's something I never thought of, I fear I've got plans for our dear Hermione. I'm not going to say what they are, but I'll tell you she's going to be 'involved' in the case more than she wants to be._

_Special thanks to:_ Vanessa-Black and Zabini, theKRITIC, japanese-jew, Arianna of Bellezza, luka-black, Quillian, mysticalrain, hploves me, DallasTexas, krissygurl, crystalshine, stropicPia, strawberries, Misshogwarts1125, gigifanfic, goblin monkey, ilikechicken and The Phantom's Lotte_. Thanks for your support and feedback. It means more to me than you can imagine._


	3. Lost

Chapter Two Lost

"Didn't you know him?"

Helen Michaels looked up from her desk to see Darcy Morgan standing in front of her, waving a copy of _The Daily Prophet_. "It's about that big retrial in England."

Helen snatched the paper and began pouring over the article. "No, I don't know any of them," she lied, her eyes scanning the article quickly so she wouldn't see any names. She knew if she was to see his name, she'd break down.

Leaving England was one of the hardest things she had ever done, next to changing her name. She didn't say goodbye to anyone, fearing that all the crying and emotion that would come from something like that would make her change her mind.

She had to leave, there was no doubt in her mind. Watching Ron's trial, sitting there, powerless to do anything because he begged her not to say what she knew she should have said, racked her with guilt. The guilt, she could live with. It was watching him sit there and take everything the prosecution said about him and never lifting a finger to defend himself was what killed her. In school, he had always flown to his feet to defend himself, whether it was with words or with his fists, but during the trial, he had just sat there. The lawyer, she remembered bitterly, hadn't tried to defend him either; he had just waited for the whole thing to be over with so he could go back to his office.

Her throat tightened when she remembered the day the verdict had been passed. _Guilty_. The victim's family had cheered, shaking the prosecutor's hand and shouting their thanks to the jury. The entire display had sickened Hermione because they didn't know what he was really like. They didn't know that the night he died he had tried to do something horrible, and that his death was the only thing that stopped him.

Ginny had burst into tears, almost jumping over the rail separating them from the front of the courtroom to get to Ron. The bailiff had allowed him to say his goodbyes, first to Ginny and the rest of his family, then to Harry and finally to her. Ginny bawled into his shoulder, promising she'd do anything and everything to make sure he got out. He had kissed her head and told her it was okay and as long as she was all right, he would do whatever he had to. One by one, he said goodbye to his family, telling each one he'd be all right and asked them for him not to worry about him too much. His mother had cried hardest, and after he had said goodbye to her, he began to cry. He and Harry had hugged briefly, Harry promising he'd help do whatever he had to do to help get him out. Ron had smiled at him, telling him to watch out for Ginny before he locked eyes with Hermione.

The force of his gaze had almost caused Hermione to stumble back, but the minute she started crying, he wrapped his arms around her and let her cry. She had wrapped her arms around his back and held on as if her life depended on it. When the bailiff tapped him on the shoulder and told him it was time to go, he had leant down enough to kiss her cheek. "I love you," he had whispered into her hair, loud enough for her to hear but not loud enough for anyone else.

Hermione watched him go, her heart pounding harder than it had ever before. She'd waited so long to hear him say that to her, and now that he had, she felt like the luckiest woman in the world. But the minute her mind screamed she'd never see him again, her world came tumbling down.

That night she bought a boat ticket to France, intending to spend the rest of her life in a section of the remotest part of the Alps in southern France. Just before the ship docked in the Port of Calais, she ran into Michael Cavanaugh, an Irish wizard from Delvin. He had been several years ahead of her at Hogwarts, but his charm and easy manner attracted her to him. They spent the week in Paris, sightseeing and touring museums before she left for the French Alps.

She found herself at a lodge in Chamonix, bussing tables and serving hot chocolate to the skiers dropping by. One afternoon, on her day off, she spilled her cup of coffee all over none other than Michael Cavanaugh. After apologizing, he bought her another cup of coffee and asked her out to dinner. She declined, insisting he enjoy his time at the resort. The next day, she found her room in the lodge full of exotic flowers of every kind, courtesy of Michael. A card attached to one of the bouquets asked her to have lunch with him the next day, and feeling as if she couldn't decline this time, she accepted.

The date was at one of the resort's finest restaurants, and they spent hours talking about their lives. He hadn't passed judgment on why she left, or even suggested she go back. He was an excellent listener, something Hermione needed, and he was a very smart man, having interests in art, science and literature. As the conversation drifted toward these subjects, Hermione found herself falling for the Irishman.

Broken hearts don't just heal overnight, however. She was constantly plagued by thoughts of Ron. Of him getting out and coming to find her in the arms of another man. She woke up, shaking and sweating some nights, from dreams of him finding her, of starting an new life together. And one dream even went as far as them having three beautiful children and growing old together. Most dreams, however, ended the same way. Her waking up and facing the harsh reality. He wasn't coming to find her. They'd never have a family together. They'd never have a life together. End of story.

Michael stayed for three months, their relationship growing. When he asked her to come back to Dublin with him, she pushed the doubts echoing in her mind aside and left with him. Upon arriving in the seaside town of Waterford, she used her mother's first and maiden name, Helen Michaels. It became official four months later.

They had been dating for four years before he officially asked her to marry him. For a fleeting moment, Hermione envisioned Ron in front of her, on his knee, asking the same question. In that moment, Hermione realized she'd never love Michael the way she loved Ron and that if she were to accept his proposal, she'd be settling. It was during that moment, everything came crashing down, and in a state of emotional duress, she accepted. Michael may not be Ron, but he loved her and she believed, that with time, she could return that love in the way he deserved.

She sat back down at her desk, twirling the engagement ring Michael had bought for her. It was engraved _To my everything,_ and every time Hermione looked at the inscription, she was flooded with guilt. She may be his everything, but he wasn't hers. Her everything was currently involved with what was considered the biggest event of the year, possibly even the decade.

And it killed her.

"Darcy?" she called, looking around for the petite brunette. Darcy popped into the back room, watching Hermione carefully through narrow eyes. Hermione knew she didn't believe her when she said she didn't know anyone from the article. "If anyone calls for me, tell them I'm out for the week and I won't be back until late Monday."

"Plans with Michael?"

Hermione heard the disdain in her voice, but chose to ignore it. She knew Darcy was jealous, of her career and of her boyfriend, but if she was to tell the truth, she'd give it to Darcy in a heartbeat if she could just go back to England and pretend like nothing had happened. "No, it's a personal thing," she replied, gathering some books and pushing them into her bag. "I have some unfinished business to attend to back in England."

"Good luck," Darcy said brightly. "And have a nice trip. I hear England's beautiful this time of year." Hermione turned her back towards the smiling woman and rolled her eyes at the underlying message. She pretended to not notice when Darcy mumbled, "I hope your ship sinks," under her breath.

"Have a great weekend Darcy," Hermione told her as she walked out of her office. "And since I'm going to be gone Friday, I'm afraid you're paycheck will have to wait until Monday."

Darcy's groans of protest fell on deaf ears as Hermione walked out into the crisp fall air. The leaves were just beginning their cycle of colors, and as the wind ruffled the branches, an array of leaves drifted through the air, floating to the ground lazily. Hermione breathed deeply and sighed, letting the cool air circulate through her lungs. She found that the perfect solution to thinking too much was cool, fresh air and a beautiful day.

As she walked the familiar path towards her flat, her mind began to wander. She saw a woman and her redheaded little girl walking on the other side of the road, and she tried to imagine having children with Michael. They'd be cute, with dimples and freckles, maybe brown eyes, red hair…

She shook her head vigorously, trying to get the image of the little redheaded girl out of her mind. _Why won't he leave me alone?_ she thought miserably, slowing her steps to a stop and collapsing onto the closest bench. She ran her hands through her slightly frizzy hair exasperatedly and sighed, letting the tousled strands fall back into place. _What are you waiting for?_

XxX

The Irish Ministry was a mess, full of witches and wizards scrambling from department to department in an attempt to collect the information they needed. As Hermione stepped into the Department of Outer Ministry Travels, she smiled, suddenly feeling as if she wasn't the only one who's life was a complete mess at the moment.

She'd left a note at Michael's flat, saying she was going to see a cousin in America. She felt horrible lying to him, but she knew he wouldn't want to hear the truth. Telling him she had business in England would be like telling him she shot herself in the foot, he wouldn't understand her reasons and would try to talk her out of it. And if he were to succeed, the issue would never come up again, meaning Hermione would never get the chance to do anything about the gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach.

As she waited for her passport validation in line, she looked down at her hand, the hand that held the engagement ring. Seeing it, sitting on her hand in such a possessive way, made her skin crawl. She had the sudden urge to chuck it in the closet wastebasket, but when the urge subsided, she dropped it into the tote bag in her hand. Suddenly, a wave of guilt washed over her, but it was quickly diminished by the bolt of electricity shooting through her. For the first time in a long time, she felt as if everything could work out. And in her favor for once.

XxX

Ginny trudged into the suite at midnight, kicking off her shoes and collapsing into one of the armchairs, a smile plastered on her face. She and Georgette had discussed the case all afternoon, writing drafts of motions and going over the evidence from the last case. As she had expected, Georgette poked holes in everything, pointing out the weaker aspects and giving her advice on how to play up on them. Together they had called Nick Gates, arranging for a meeting the next day. She knew he wanted to make a deal, but Ginny had firmly instructed Georgette to take nothing less than parole as a punishment.

She padded into the bedroom, her feet silent against the thick carpet. Carefully, she placed her briefcase in the bottom drawer of the dresser, placing a locking charm on the drawer before beginning her search for her suitcase.

Earlier that morning, she and Harry had packed three suitcases, one for her, one for him and one for Ron. Harry had shrunk them, and kept them in his pocket all day, promising to leave hers in her room. She picked up the pink suitcase and tossed it on her bed, almost jumping out of her skin when she heard something say, "Oomph!"

Ron had been lying on the bed, and in the dark, Ginny hadn't noticed his sleeping form. He pushed the suitcase off him, a bewildered look in his eyes as Ginny flipped on the lights.

His hand flew up to his face, covering his eyes. Ginny giggled when she realized he was wearing her old Weird Sister's shirt that barely covered his stomach. He looked down, a blush slowly creeping into his neck and ears. "It was the only thing I could stand to sleep in," he mumbled, his hand moving to the back of his neck.

Ginny continued laughing, pointing at bottom of the shirt. "Why didn't you enlarge it?" she cackled, holding her stomach.

"I don't have my wand!" Ron replied, "Harry was already asleep, and Merlin knows it takes a storm to wake him. Can't you just enlarge it and forget this ever happened?"

"No," Ginny told him, picking up the camera she'd kept in her handbag. It was a disposable Muggle one that she used to take pictures of documents she needed to inventory incase anything ever got lost. She snapped a picture of Ron's bewildered face and smiled. This was the first time she'd seen something besides pain or forelorness on his face. "Forever preserved," she mumbled, pulling her wand out of her handbag and muttering the spell to enlarge the shirt. It grew until it hit the waistband of his trousers and he sighed in relief. "There. Now," she began, pointing her finger at him. "Make sure you get enough sleep. Tomorrow, Georgette is taking you to the prosecutor's office and you have to be looking sharp."

"Who's Georgette?"

"She's my old law professor, the one I told you about. She's going to handle the out of court decisions while I start to assemble the arguments."

Ron scratched his head absently, watching she bumbled around the room, putting her things away. "Does she know…" he asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"No," Ginny replied shortly. "The only person that does, besides us, is Hermione, and we're going to keep it that way."

Ron nodded, tracing a pattern on the bed. Why was it his stomach still jumped whenever someone said Hermione's name? It's been six years since he heard someone else say it because, sometimes, late at night he used to say it out loud, just to make sure he wasn't losing his mind. Her memory was the one thing keeping him from going completely insane. Day after day, he sat alone in a dark, cold cell, waiting for his sanity to escape. Half the people incarcerated, a guard once told him, went crazy after a few days in solitary confinement. Not many could stand more than a year, and almost all of the rest were crazy after a year and a half. Ron had been in there six years, waiting for the day he wouldn't remember anything. But it never came. Now, he was glad it hadn't, because if it had, he wouldn't be able to enjoy this moment of freedom.

He heard the bathroom door shut, and he realized Ginny had left. He shook his head, trying to get the mental image of Hermione's eyes out of his head. He'd always loved her eyes; they were always so full of passion. No matter how stoical her face was, no matter how frigid her attitude, her eyes told him everything he ever needed to know. They told him if she was upset after one of their famous spats, still angry with him over something or if she had cooled down enough for him to apologize without the risk of her turning him into a cockroach. He could stare into her eyes for days, and when he found himself lost in them, he found it hard to breathe.

He smacked the side of his head with the bottom of his hand, cursing himself mentally. Here he was, mooning over her while she was probably perfectly happy without him. A small voice in his head told him he'd never be happy without her, while another part told him he could move on. Eventually.

He walked over to the window, trying to calm his restless mind by looking out into the darkness. It was a new moon, so nothing was visible. Just darkness. And even though Ginny was in the bathroom and Harry was in the next room, he felt more alone than he did right now. He found himself wondering if maybe, just maybe, Hermione was feeling just as lost.

XxX

Hermione sighed, feeling more restless than she had in days. She'd rented a room in a little hotel just outside of London at noon and had been cooped up in there ever since. She couldn't risk any tabloid seeing her before she was ready to face them and Ron.

Ron.

The thought of seeing him again, after so long and so much had happened, sent a shiver down her spine. She'd tried to imagine, from what she remembered and the brief glance of the picture in the picture she'd seen this morning, what he looked like now. She'd seen the jagged scar along the left side of his face, and she wondered how it had gotten there. The vacant look on his face told her he'd seen more than he had ever wanted to see, and a pang of guilt shot through her. If she had spoken up…

_But,_ a voice in her head hissed_, he told you he'd handle it. That whatever happened, he could handle it, and you knew he wasn't doing this out of misplaced heroism, he was doing this to save her. To save you. That was when you finally realized, no matter what, he'd do anything for you. And that's what made you fall even harder for him._

"You were stupid," she mumbled, tracing the outline of a heart on the window. The glass was cool beneath her warm fingertips and she shuddered when her fingertip became cooler. "You didn't know what you were getting into."

She looked up at the dark sky, dotted with the occasional glimmer of light from a star. The moon wasn't visible, and her soul suddenly fell cold with forlorness. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to get the feeling to leave. As she watched the sky, the stars twinkled merrily, mocking her sadness. It was at that moment, she realized she'd been murmuring his name softly, letting it roll off her tongue and into the heavy air.

She walked across the room, trying to calm her racing heart. Memories began to fill her mind, flashing across her eyes like a slideshow. The feeling evoked by these memories were so powerful, she had to sit on the edge of the bed.

Throwing herself back onto the scratchy comforter and unforgivably lumpy pillows, she closed her eyes and surrendered to the pull of her subconscious, falling asleep almost instantly.

_**Hermione walked out of the pub, needing some fresh air. She was finally going to tell Ron how she felt, but by the time she'd worked up the courage to say something, he had left the table and followed Ginny into the crowd. She was out here to try to regain the courage before facing him.**_

_**She heard what sounded like crying from around the corner, and upon hearing a man's voice talking in a soothing tone, she rounded the corner cautiously. When she saw who was doing the crying, she gasped.**_

_**A man was lying on the ground, bleeding from his stomach. Hermione immediately recognized him as Ginny's ex boyfriend, Thomas Whittingger. Ginny was standing above him, sobbing into Ron's shoulder as he tried to quiet her. Clutched in his hand, the handle covered in a white handkerchief, was a bloody steak knife.**_

_**Hermione stood statue still, willing her breathing to slow. Ron, however, looked up from his hysterical sister long enough to see her. "Hermione," he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. "It was an accident-"**_

_**Before he could finish, Hermione turned around and ran.**_

XxX

Finally! And just in time, because I'm going to be in Las Vegas all next week, so another update isn't schedualed until I get back. Sorry. The story took a little twist, thanks to some of the reviews I've been recieving. Hermione's original involvement was going to be very limited, but at the insistence of some R/Hr action, I'm bringing her in early. Don't worry, her original mission is still the same, just the leading up to it part has changed a bit.

**Wytil: **Court summons do have the tendencies to disrupt otherwise happy and unhappy hiding places. Thanks for the review!

**eckles: **Your review really made me think about how I was portraying Ron. I'm glad it seemed so deep, even though I had no idea I portrayed him like that. I'll be sure to try and live up to the new expectation, I promise. Thanks for reviewing!

**Vanessa Black-Zabini: **Is this fast enough for you? ;)

**mingingbent: **Law and Order is undoubtably one of the GREATEST shows on the planet! I'm glad I found another fanatic. Jerry Orbach's passing made me lock myself in my room for a week; I was devestated. Thanks for the review, and bethankful you have two dollars, because I fear my bank is broke.

**hour4chris**: I plan on becoming a lawyer (continuing the family tradition, my dad's one too) and, I fear, this is the first fanfiction I've written that I've actually done research on! Plus, nine hours a day of Law and Order tends to sharpen one's law knowledge. ;) Thanks for reviewing, and good luck with your major!

More thanks are due to: **brilliant-author, Quillian, krissygurl, Miss Mione, sqcgirl52, ChristinaMarie15, Lesa L, Hold-Your-Hippogriffs, DallasTexas, MIDNIGHT-PIXIE, hplovesme, quidditch7and Beauty Eclipsed.** Your reviews make me so happy, so, so very excited to write the next chapter. I'm so anixous to get the next one out I can barely stand it! And for those who aren't sure about the legal aspects of the case, don't worry, I'll do my best to explain what's going on through the story. I also realize I switch POVs very often, but it's all for the greater good of the story and I find it can explain things better.

Thanks for all the feedback, and constructive critism is always welcome!

Missie


	4. Over

_Monster A/N- I just (as in 25 minutes ago) finished HBP. Needless to say, I'm in a bit of a daze... This chapter took FOREVER, mainly because I had a good portion written and things kept coming up (like canon! I had to reread everythingto make sure I didn't miss anything!)and ugh... So, finally here it is. And thanks to** and MrsHarryPotter12**for their insight. _

**Chapter Three Over**

Ron's hands were shaking the moment he stepped into the conference room. He had met Georgette in the hotel lobby, and she had explained everything that was going to be happening at the prosecutor's office. First, the prosecutor would tell them all the strong points of their case, then Georgette would rattle off the weaker points and then the prosecutor would offer a deal. He was sure Ginny wouldn't approve of any deal, so he was trying not to get his hopes up for a quick end to the case.

The conference room was bright; the sun was cheerfully shining through the open windows and a slight breeze ruffled the papers on the long table in the centre of the room. The prosecutor, Nick Gates, was sitting on one side and a crooked nosed, blonde woman sat next to him. Georgette took a seat on the opposite side of the table; motioning for Ron to follow suit. "To what do we owe this pleasure, Mr. Gates?" Georgette asked, extending her hand.

He shook it, his face grave. "I didn't realize there was another attorney on the case," he admitted, looking at Ron curiously. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Weasley," he said, also extending his hand to Ron.

The blonde extended her hand and smiled. "I'm Heidi Jennings, the second chair," she told Ron before giving Georgette a quick nod. Georgette rolled her eyes.

Ron looked briefly towards Georgette, who nodded curtly. Ron turned back towards Gates and shook his hand before shaking Heidi's. After he let go, Ron folded his hands in his lap. Georgette pushed a wet towelette towards him, under the table and smiled at the curious expression on his face. She pushed it into his hands and looked back at Gates. "Let's get one thing straight. This case should have never gone to court six years ago, and I was strictly instructed by my client's solicitor to not accept anything more than parole."

"Ms…," Gates asked, his sentence trailing off when he realized he didn't know her name.

"Heath," she replied. "Georgette Heath."

"Ms Heath," he continued, fixing a steely gaze on her. "I resent that implication. We proved your client guilty once, we can do it again. The only offer on the table is murder two, fifteen to twenty five years. A chance for parole may be granted after five."

"No." Georgette stood, motioning for Ron to stand as well. "If that's the best you can do, I think we're done here."

"Wait," the blonde said, casting Gates a desperate look. "Manslaughter one, five to ten years, possibility of parole after three years."

Georgette didn't hesitate. "No. What part of parole don't you people understand?"

"You do realize," Gates said, a tone of desperation in his voice. "After we go into court, all these deals are off the table. When he's convicted, we're going to ask for the maximum punishment, life in prison."

"You do that," Georgette replied, setting her briefcase on the table and pulling a packet of papers out. She handed the packet to Gates and smiled. "Before I forget, this is a motion to suppress all statements given to the last persecutor, excuse me, **_prosecutor_** by my client six years ago."

"On what grounds?" Gates shouted, his face flushing pink. He began to flip through the packet quickly, his eyes scanning the papers. "Those statements were given-"

"After he specifically asked for an attorney and didn't get one," Georgette finished, flashing him a wider smile.

"His sister was present!"

"Yes, but at the time she wasn't a law student; she was in Healer training at St Mungo's, making her a resident, not versed in the fine art of law. And, quite frankly, if that's the best defensive argument you have for this, I can't wait to see you in court." She smiled at Ron, whose hand was still clutching the wet towelette. "Ron, I believe we have business elsewhere." She motioned towards the door and winked, earning a bit of a smile from the solemn looking Weasley.

Ron walked out first, holding the door for the older woman. As they walked down the hallway, questions began to flood his mind. As they stepped into the elevator, Georgette turned to him. "Confused?" she asked, setting her briefcase on the floor and bending down to unlace her heels. She stood back up straight and held them in her hand. "I know this isn't how you wanted to spend your days out of Azkaban."

"What was with the wet thing?" he asked, looking down at the limp cloth in his hand.

Georgette laughed. "Prosecutors have slippery palms, so I always keep a couple of those in my pocket incase I have to shake their hands, and I always pass it on to the client. It's something I've been doing since I was a rookie. They're like a good luck charm, if you will." She pulled several more packets of them out of her pocket and showed them to him. "Did you have any questions about what we were talking about back there? I don't want you going into court and not understanding what's happening."

"What was in the packet you gave him?" he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. He had awoke in a foul mood, his dreams being plagued by Hermione's memory. He couldn't remember much from the dreams, but he just knew they had Hermione in them. During the entire meeting, he hadn't really been paying much attention, only catching the occasional word as he battled his memory for parts of the dreams. When Georgette stood, he hadn't understood the meaning of the words she and Gates had exchanged.

"It's what's called a motion," she began, taking the towelette out of his hand and dropping it into the waste bin in the corner of the elevator. "It's an official document that asks the court for something. The motion I gave him was one to suppress the statements you gave to the Aurors after you were brought in for questioning. Your sister and I read the transcripts, and when you asked for a lawyer, they should have stopped the questioning and gotten you one. By not doing what they were required to do by law, they invaded your personal rights, so everything you said after you asked for a lawyer isn't admissible in court."

"So that's a good thing?" Ron asked.

"Yes. In your statements, you admitted to seeing the victim and not liking him, you admitted to having steak at dinner, therefore giving you access to the knife. If Ginevra decides to keep you off the stand, the prosecution will have a harder time proving access, motive and opportunity, which works in our favor. Anything else you were confused on?"

"Not really," he admitted, shaking his head. Ginny had told him everything that was supposed to go on in the meeting today, and it had happened pretty much like she said it would, or at least what he'd paid attention to had. She hadn't had time to explain everything, she'd just told him to ask Georgette.

Georgette quickly put her shoes back on before the elevator's buzzer went off as they reached the ground floor. The moment the doors swished open, they were blinded by photographers' camera flashes. Reporters were shouting questions, pushing recording quills into their faces, hopefully awaiting answers. Georgette grabbed Ron's sleeve, dragging him through the ocean of reporters.

"Mr. Weasley! How does it feel to finally be free?"

"Mr. Weasley! How confident in your attorney do you feel?"

"Do you have anything to say about your conviction before?"

"What are your chances for getting acquitted?"

"What was Azkaban like?"

The questions began to swirl in his head, and he blindly followed Georgette through the masses. They reached the street, and she moved to stand in front of Ron. "My client has no comment on anything. Good day!" She had to shout in order for her voice to rise above the clamor of clicking cameras and nosy reporters' voices. "Ron!" she whispered urgently, tugging on the lapel of his robes. "Flag a cab, we're not getting away from them without one." She handed him her wand, motioning for him to hold it up.

Ron obliged, sticking the wand in the air in order to flag one of the cabs whizzing by. One stopped, _Merlin's Quickie Cab_ written in red paint on the side. He opened the door, letting out a grunt of surprise when he was roughly pushed in from behind. Georgette quickly followed, slamming the door fiercely. The cab shook for a moment, and the cabbie looked back. "Don't slam the door so!" he shouted, glaring at Georgette.

"Sorry," she replied lamely, rolling her eyes. "Take us to Hogsmede, kind sir. And could you step on it? I have an appointment with the bottle of firewhiskey in my desk drawer and I don't want to miss it."

The cabbie grumbled before speeding off. Ron reached out to grab the hook, but after a hard turn, he found himself clutching the door handle. The cab lurched, and Georgette and Ron began swearing when the seat bounced them in the air. As the cab screeched to a slamming halt, Ron's door flung open. When the cab finally stopped with a loud pop, Ron fell out, landing on the hard pavement with a muffled thump.

Georgette laughed, throwing the cabbie what was left in her pockets. "Hey! You still owe me six knuts!" he shouted, pointing at the fare meter. Georgette dug around in her bag and tossed him a galleon.

"My next ride is free," she told him, slamming the door. He shouted at them, but by the time Georgette helped Ron to his feet, the cab had sped away, leaving an angry cloud of smoke as it continued to pop and groan down the street. "Cabbies," she said after a period of silence. "They just make you want to drink, don't they? That's Mickey, I think he's from New York."

Ron forced out a chuckle, brushing the dirt off the sleeve of his dress robes. "Do you mind having company during that appointment with the whiskey?" he asked. Today's events were beginning to put a load on him, and a drink was just the thing he thought he needed.

Georgette smiled and put her arm around his shoulder, steering him towards her office. "I think I'm going to like you."

XxX

Ginny pulled another pair of robes off and sighed. She couldn't find anything that made her look like a professional, and she couldn't afford to look like she didn't know what she was doing. She laid her head against the cool mirror and sighed, trying to muster up the courage to try on the next set of robes.

"Ginny?"

Harry was standing outside the cubicle, knocking on the door. Somehow, she had roped him into going with her, and she had forgotten he was sitting out there. "Yes?" she replied, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Are you all right?" he asked, putting his ear against the door. "I haven't seen you in awhile and I just wanted to make sure you were okay." The truth was he was getting extremely bored, just sitting out there, but he knew she was having a hard time finding a nice pair, so he didn't want to say anything that would upset her more.

Ginny sighed, grabbing the last set. "I'm okay," she replied, sighing heavily. "I just wish Mum hadn't given me her hips." She pulled them on, snapping the front snaps before turning around and inspecting herself.

This was the first set that didn't immediately draw all the attention to her hips, and they were just the right length. She turned around to inspect the back, and when she was satisfied, she opened the dressing room door and stepped out.

When Harry heard the door open, he reluctantly set his magazine down. If this one was anything like the others, she'd end up practically in tears. She had become very shapely, he had realized as he watched her try on the various sets. He still wasn't quite sure why she was so upset with every pair; he had thought she looked pretty good in everything.

He looked up, and as his eyes traveled her body, he realized this was probably the best set she'd tried on yet, mostly because she wasn't in tears. They were one of the most interesting shades of dark green he'd ever seen, and they weren't too long, like almost all the others had been. She smiled at him when his eyes finally met hers, and she turned around slowly to give him a view from all angles. There was no doubt in his mind that these were the best yet. They made her backside look amazing.

He shook his head quickly, before she could notice that his gaze had been on her arse. When she was facing him again, he nodded his approval and she floated back into the dressing room to change. Harry collected the bags they'd accumulated from the various shops in Diagon Alley, and once she stepped out of the dressing room, they walked towards the front of the store to pay.

As Ginny rounded the corner, cautious not to trip and fall into the rack of Muggle clothes display, she bumped into a petite brunette woman. "Bloody Merlin!" Ginny mumbled, grabbing onto Harry's arm as she steadied herself. "Are you all right miss?" she asked upon regaining her breath.

Hermione looked up, surprised to hear a familiar voice. "Ginny?" she whispered, her voice cracking with surprise.

Ginny's eyes hardened at the sound of her name, and Harry's mouth fell open. He knew this wasn't going to be a happy reunion, especially since Ginny had sent Hermione a letter about the retrial and Hermione had basically told her that wasn't a part of her life anymore. Harry read between the lines, realizing that seeing Ron again would just reopen old wounds, but he had been hurt by her dismissal attitude towards what was the biggest thing to ever happen to the Weasley family. While he was hurt, Ginny had been enraged. After receiving Hermione's letter, Ginny had cut Hermione out of all the pictures from her years at Hogwarts in a fit of rage. In between the swearing and tears, she had denounced Hermione as a friend and swore she'd never speak to her again.

"Hermione," Ginny said coldly, letting go of Harry's arm and smiling grimly. "Or should I say Helen? Tell me, how's your carefree life in Ireland coming along? Is what's-his-name a good shag?" Her voice had taken on a hollow quality, and her eyes had hardened considerably.

Hermione's eyes widened at the harsh tone her old friend had used. She hadn't expected this type of greeting, especially not from Ginny. Then she remembered the letter she had sent the redhead four months ago. "Ginny, I can--"

Ginny laughed hollowly, backing away from Hermione. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, and as her face twisted in anger, a stray one found its way down her cheek. "What? Explain? Maybe you haven't noticed, but I stopped giving a damn about everything except my friends and family the day that verdict passed, unlike you. I don't care what you've been up to, who you happen to be living with or how fabulous your new life without complications like us is going. I really don't care, because I've come to terms with the fact that you don't care. Hell, you probably never cared. Why don't you go back to your Irishman and leave us alone?" Ginny's left foot snagged against the fabric of a dress and she fell into a rack of robes. The crash echoed through the store, attracting the attention of everyone who wasn't already staring at the two women.

Harry dropped the bags and rushed to her side; helping her to her feet as she struggled to keep her emotions in check. Hermione's eyes flooded with tears, and she stood rooted to the spot. Harry threw her an apologetic look before looking back at Ginny. Her head was down, hiding her face. Harry placed a hand on her back before looking back at Hermione. _Leaky Cauldron_, he mouthed, motioning his head towards the door. Hermione nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Ginny looked up just in time to see the pain in Hermione's eyes. A tear coursed down her cheek, but her look of remorse was soon replaced with a grim, almost smug smile. "Now you know what it feels like," she whispered hoarsely, her voice breaking, "To realize that the one person you always thought you could trust with everything is a fake." She looked over at Harry and nodded, brushing the tears from her eyes and taking a deep breath. She'd promised herself a long time ago that Hermione Granger would never, ever get the last laugh when it came to their broken friendship.

Harry picked up the bags and walked away with Ginny, looking back a final time at his old friend. While he felt bad about leaving her crying, a small part of him felt it was only fair. She'd left without a word, and Harry had always felt that she'd just taken the easy way out without considering what it would do to the people she left behind. _It doesn't matter_, his conscience told him, _you'll talk to her tonight_._ Maybe after that you can forget about her once and for all._

XxX

"The nerve of her!" Ginny exclaimed, pushing her way into the office building where Georgette and Ron were supposed to meet them. "I mean, I can't believe after all the shit she put us through she just shows up and expects us to forgive her! Just who the hell does she think she is?" Ginny's face was almost purple with rage, and as they reached the elevators going up to the seventh floor, she punched the button furiously.

"I know," Harry replied, trying to keep listening to Ginny's rant. Hermione's return had been unplanned, but Harry had almost been glad to see her. She'd been in the back of his mind since he received the letter she'd sent him four months ago. Ginny had rushed in before he could read it, shoving the letter she'd sent her in his face. The words written on the paper were a blur now, but he'd gotten the general gist of the letter: I don't want to see you ever again.

He hadn't opened the one she had sent him; he couldn't bring himself to face the fact she wasn't the Hermione he'd met on the train. He was positive his letter said something like what was said in Ginny's, and he almost felt better not knowing she thought he and his friends were burdens. This way, he'd always remember her for the girl she used to be.

Even with everything that had happened and everything she had done, Harry couldn't bring himself to hate her. She had been one of the first friends he had made at Hogwarts, she had always tried to keep him out of trouble no matter what he did and underneath her bossy and sometimes annoying exterior, he knew she really cared for him. Reading her letter and seeing in her handwriting that she hated him would crash his fragile memories of her, and right now that was something he didn't need. She was his last link to the happier times in his life, and he didn't want to lose them.

He looked down, not wanting to meet Ginny's eyes. She was still huffing, but now she was mumbling her thoughts to herself. He caught every other word, but by the tone of her whispered voice, he could tell they weren't words meant to betray happy feelings. Feeling a sharp pain in his lower arm, he looked down and realized Ginny had been clutching his wrist so hard, she'd drawn blood.

"Shit! I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, unlacing her long fingers from around his wrist. Four nail marks were oozing blood from the thin flesh of his wrist, and his skin was quickly turning red. "Oh Merlin, Harry I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," Harry told her, wincing as he moved his wrist a bit. She pulled out her wand and tapped it against his skin, muttering a healing spell. "Thanks," he said, watching as the small cuts faded. After a few moments the red spots disappeared, and you couldn't tell anything had ever been there.

Ginny gently ran her fingers over the now invisible spots, making goose bumps appear on his skin. "Bad habit," she mumbled, turning her hand over and showing him four small scars on the inside of her left palm. "I do it all the time."

They looked up at the same moment, and as their eyes locked, he found himself closer to her than he'd ever been before. His eyes drifted to her lips, and just as she leaned forward ever so slightly, the elevator doors swept open.

He could feel the heat radiating off her cheeks as they both straightened up and avoided the other's eyes. _Close,_ Harry thought, following her out of the elevator. He was careful not to let his eyes slip down her back. _You're over her._

_>>>>_

To **eckles:** Hermione's reaction may sound odd, but that's the great thing about the human element. We're unpredictable and we don't make sense. Everyone copes differently, and while Hermione's reaction may be strange, it's not unreasonable. Thanks for the review!

More thanks to: **hermione2, Ever in the Shadows, secretspells311, MissHogwarts1125, MIDNIGHT-PIXIE, ilikechicken, Pia, Vanessa-Black and Zabini, hplovesme, Marauder Angel, Beauty-Eclipsed, japanese-jew, Wytil and Quillian.** To all of you: Most of your questions I can't answer without coming out and saying it. Just use your imaginations, and I'll tell you if you're right at the end...


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